


A Deep Purple

by Lore711



Category: Buster Keaton - Fandom
Genre: Buster's chuckle IS like a saxaphone, F/M, Ficlet, I swear, Jazz - Freeform, Paul Whitman, Song Inspired, a deep purple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lore711/pseuds/Lore711
Summary: It's just a summer evening when you and Buster decide to make up a song.





	A Deep Purple

The sun sparkled softly on a pair of two sweethearts one warm summer evening. August was coming to a close and the Earth decided to give out one last nice day before reclining into a cool Autumn season.

You and Buster sat on a small bench in a park, watching the sun wink at them as it went behind a small hill. You put your head on his shoulder and in turn he put his chin on the top of your head. “If you’re getting tired, you know I could just take us home,” he said quietly, though you both knew you weren’t going anywhere for awhile.

“Let’s stay just a while longer,” you sighed dreamily.  
It was one of those evenings where everything just wasn’t real. The chirping of the crickets were like a lullaby. It was as if they were using their tiny little legs to massage your eyelids shut; it was certainly working.

“If you fall asleep on me, I won’t carry you,” Buster said lightly, shifting so he could lean more against the bench. “Oh, hush, Buster,” you scolded. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

He sighed dramatically but quieted down, nuzzling the top of your head.

The sun was still making its slow descent, giving off an orange dust in its wake. Everything was enveloped in this magical orange dust, the water in front of them, the tree leaves, their skin and their clothes. And what a beautiful shade of orange, like a begonia in the height of its life.

“This day should have its own song,” you said suddenly. “Something soft and warm, like a hug or…”

“Or a kiss?” Buster followed up. You smiled bashfully, turning your head as he leaned forward playfully. “Oh, Buster, not in public. You’ll cause a scene.” You couldn’t help but chuckle though.

“So then we’ll make a song for this day,” he said. “What instruments would it have?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A clarinet or a bass, perhaps a drum or-”

“A piano?” he added, tickling up your arms. You giggled, inching away. “Buster, stop it! This is serious.” Despite this, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “But I do like the piano.” You paused, looking back up at the sunset. “It would start low and then get higher…and then end in a grand finale of all the instruments together.”

Buster chuckled a low, deep chuckle that reminded you of a warm saxophone. “It would be the climax of all music.” You looked up at him to see him grinning down at you. You had a hard time concealing your smile as you slapped him playfully. “Oh, Buster, don’t say things like that!” you scolded.

Another saxophone chuckle rumbled through his chest and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into him. It was just so comfortable, on this bench in the summer evening. He was so comfy, so warm, so…

“Now don’t you fall asleep!” Buster chided, not doing much to stop you though. “I know some of these old folks that walk around this park and they’d have at me if they saw a pretty girl like you sleeping on my shoulder!”

You smiled lazily, looking up at him with somewhat mischievous eyes. “You callin’ me pretty,” you said, blinking for extra effect. You could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“I said what I said,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. You looked around quickly as if to scope the park of any judgemental old folks teetering around. When you didn’t find any, you turned back to him. “There’s no old people around! What’s your excuse now.”

He pursed his lips as if to ponder, but you didn’t give him a chance to move before you inched forwards, touching your lips to his. You could feel him smile as you squeezed your eyes shut, not sure if you had just overstepped your boundaries or not.

You were put at ease as he cupped your cheek and tilted his head to the side to get a better angle. His lips tasted like cigarettes and mint. The sounds of a warm saxophone mixed with a strong trombone filled your head, blocking out everything but your connected lips.

As he pulled away and the saxophones and trombones died out, you looked away and blushed. “You’re acting all shy for a girl that just made the first move,” he pointed out, taking your chin and making you face him. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I won’t tell if you don’t.” His eyes twinkled and you were reminded of a quiet violin, soft but impacting.

“Maybe instead of a song for today, it could be our song?” you suggested, giving up modesty and laying your head in his lap. “I’m not opposed, even though I won’t be writing it,” he said, running his fingers through your hair.

“What’ll the name be?”

The sun was just about to be gone and you savored that moment right there. In Buster’s lap, the wind blowing ever so slightly, the flowers blowing in the wind, the sky a dark shade of purple just about to turn to a black sky.

“A deep purple,” you answered, taking it all in in one deep breath. “Yeah, I like that.”


End file.
